During a recent trip to the doctor I had an honor bestowed upon me. As I walked out of the exam area there was an older couple sitting in the waiting area. The gentleman had on a ball cap and the back band said “WWII VET” in gold letters. I make it a point to talk to these men as they made it possible for me to be here today, free and happy. And, unfortunately, most of them are leaving us very soon.
I leaned over and said, “Master Chief, I want to thank you for your service.”
His eyes lit up and he was tickled that I knew what his insignia meant. “I had to know, Master Chief, I was a Second Class [Petty Officer] in my day.”
Master Chief – a fouled anchor with two stars.
I wasn’t motoring too well with the bum knee so I sat down and talked with another sailor for a while. Here was a man who’d spent years in the service of his country. He eventually retired from the reserves but he’d done active duty during the largest conflict mankind has ever known.
The Master Chief was an aviation guy – he spent his time on carriers and sea plane tenders. He was gracious enough to share some of his life with me that morning. And then we had one of those moments that only veterans seem to share. He was talking about the flight deck on the carrier and how dangerous it was for his guys. He was an arresting gear specialist during the war and when those cables break (and they do) they whip around like death with an attitude. If you’re lucky it comes in low when the cable breaks and slices off your feet. If it comes in higher it cuts you in half. That’s why when people talk about the peacetime service being a refuge for those who can’t cut it on the outside, or an easy job, I can only treat them with scorn for their ignorance. You don’t need to be in combat to be in danger in the military.
His words choked me up – “I always used to tell my guys to make sure they dropped the barrier if the plane caught a wire. Otherwise they’d flip over it and crash.” I couldn’t even talk for a minute with the emotion threatening to bring me down.
I then told him the story of my friends who’d died in that exact set of circumstances back in the 1980’s trying to land their EA-3B Skywarrior on the U.S.S. Nimitz. (Link to video) They were the crew of Ranger 12.
My life today is busy. So busy that I forget the sacrifices of others. The reminder from the Master Chief broke my cycle – I usually only think of those guys on Veteran’s Day, Memorial Day, and in January of each year on the anniversary of the crash.
I saw the look in the Master Chief’s eyes that I knew mirrored my own. A memory of friends and shipmates gone on ahead of us. And for that brief moment two old sailors from different eras and different wars shared a common bond.
Thank you, Master Chief, for taking time to talk to a punk kid. Fair seas and following winds for all of your days.
